


Too Tired for Shame

by inkedpenn



Category: Bob Dylan (Musician), Johnny Cash (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Hurt/Comfort, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 05:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21315262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkedpenn/pseuds/inkedpenn
Summary: He doesn't even have the energy to be ashamed of himself, though he knows by tomorrow he will. That's always a constant, reliable like the sunrise or the boos that come louder with each show.
Relationships: Johnny Cash/Bob Dylan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Too Tired for Shame

Ordinarily, Bob evades physical contact like his life depends on it. Like if anyone touches him, he'll fall apart, or maybe just his reputation would, but either way it's too much. Better to avoid it altogether. 

Right now though, he doesn't have the strength to bother with the masquerade. Probably couldn't even if he wanted to, not when he's damn near passed out and it feels like even just breathing is wearing him out further, exhaustion pressing heavy against his eyelids. He never used to get this tired; he never used to do a lot of things, though. But right now, he doesn't have the energy to think about all the things he never used to do.

He doesn't even have the energy to be ashamed of himself, though he knows by tomorrow he will. That's always a constant, reliable like the sunrise or the boos that come louder with each show. Shame is hot and bright, and he wonders if anyone else can see it written plain as day across his face. Too expressive, too open, heart always on his sleeve. He wants to rip it out before more people get the idea that they _know_ him. Before more people bother to care; though maybe, he thinks, he just wishes they would.

Too tired for shame, but not to cry. Only makes tomorrow even worse, but he can't help it, because he's already this far gone. Face pressed into Johnny's shoulder, involuntarily seeking out more warmth because he's always so damn cold these days, and he knows it's because he's losing weight even faster than he's losing his mind but he just doesn't seem to remember what hunger feels like. As soon as he questions it his stomach is growling and he snuggles in closer towards Johnny, feels him shift and he doesn't have the energy for whatever judgement will be passed on him now. He doesn't have the energy for pity.

But Johnny doesn't much care, or doesn't realize, what Bob doesn't have the energy for. Not as he leans in and whispers, "you want somethin' to eat?"

But Bob just shakes his head, even as he begins to sniffle and the charade is collapsing around him. Falling apart like he is. Fingers move to thread through his tangled curls, some form of reassurance lost on Bob. Johnny wraps an arm around Bob's shoulders, like he could keep him together as long as he doesn't let go. As long as they both stay perfectly still, like a picture capturing his suffering in a single moment. But Bob is never still, always moving, now trembling in the other man's arms. Always moving, farther from where he needs to be, and he feels so far from home here in some anonymous hotel halfway across the world from anything he knows. Except Johnny, who he knows so well it just about kills him, because however much he knows Johnny, Johnny knows him more. He can tell by the way he looks right through him. And its enough to shatter him on the good days, to say nothing of the bad nights.

Nights like tonight, where he's shuddering and sobbing against Johnny and he wishes that he would just break, wishes that he would just fall into a million pieces so that all his pain would be someone else's problem to sweep up. He hates that everything is so long and drawn out, like his vowels every night on stage. He hates himself, because even if he's too tired for shame he's never too far gone to want to rip himself to shreds. He thinks he's already doing a pretty good job of that. Never good enough. No, not good enough to be gone. Soon, maybe. Soon.

But tonight, he's too far gone to be able to change anything. Too far gone to pry himself away from Johnny and whatever good he thinks he can draw out of his embrace. And soon enough, all is still.


End file.
